Blood and Glory Await!
by NobleSavage
Summary: Krom never had any ambitions in his life and he never planned to have any. All that changed one day when his dad finally gave him the boot, sending him off to the Valley of Trials to become a proper hero of the Horde. Set Pre-Cataclysm.
1. Into the Valley of Trials

"_Lok'tar my boy!" "On this day you become a proud warrior of the Horde!"_

"_But dad, I don't wanna…"_

"_Haha! I never said you had a choice did I?" _

"_C'mon dad, I don't wanna fight. I just wanna hang out with Chi'jin and Cho'jin and…"_

"_Ok. Stop your whining right now. If I hear another weak-ass moan outta you, I'm gonna have to smack you upside the head with this here blunt mace."_

So that's how Krom'gar left home. Not exactly the type of beginning that proceeds all the legends of the great heroes like Grom, and Vol'jin, and Cairne, or Kilroth, his child-hood rival who once single-handedly slew a rabid bunny. Kilroth was good looking and exceptionally muscular, while Krom'gar was decidedly average looking. Nonetheless, Krom'gar found himself outside the Valley of Trials by the end of the day.

"Hey Grunk."

"Yeah Brunk?"

"Check it out, another newbie walking up the road."

"What a moron. Why start now when Cataclysm hits soon and he can have a revamped leveling experience complete with brand new talent trees and what not?"

"Yeah… What?"

"Nothing."

Krom'gar didn't notice the two guards talking about him, and wouldn't have cared much anyway. His jaw hurt too much from being smacked with a blunt mace, and his eyes were fixed on the road as he slowly trudged towards the Valley of Trials. Two minutes later his eyes were fixed on what was ahead of him. He had just learned tripping over a cactus is extremely painful.

The wall of trials loomed overhead, casting a shadow over Krom'gar and shading him from the scorching heat emanating from the sun. He never had understood why the heck anyone would want to build a nation in the dessert. It seemed like a recipe for stupidity in his opinion. Speaking of stupidity…

"Hey newbie," said Brunk, "Uh, nice gearscore."

Grunk rolled his eyes, "Don't mind him newbie. He loves taunting people who get to be heroes since he's stuck being a guard."

"You're stuck being a guard to," Brunk muttered sullenly.

"Yeah, but I never applied to be a hero," Grunk stated, "Anyway newbie, just keep following the road till you arrive at the den. Report to Sergeant Skullcrusher."

"Whatever," Krom'gar muttered as he trudged down the road. As he walked away he could still hear the two guards arguing.

"You know they only denied my hero application because I missed three points on the Strength to Attack Power conversion chart!"

"Yeah, and you thought the five races of the Horde were Orcs, Trolls, Tauren, Zombiemen, and Edward Cullen."

"That one was a trick question! And I…"

Krom'gar was unable to hear the voices by the time he was halfway down the road to the den. While he despaired at being forced into being a hero of the Horde, he supposed tit was a good thing he wasn't stuck guarding a gate in the middle of the dessert instead. Another five minutes and he was outside the den. Truly it was an aptly named place, containing a couple of shoddy lean-tos and an intricate cave system used by no one at all. Yep. This was Horde ingenuity at its finest. Smelled like Horde too.

"Eh mon. What up?" came a voice from behind Krom'gar. Krom'gar turned himself around and found himself face to face with one of the wildest trolls he had ever seen. He was easily eight feet tall, with a face painted with a fierce shade of crimson, with dark blue painted crescents traveling up one side of his face, in addition to what appeared to be a spiky Mohawk.

"Da name be Malladen, an I be a new recruit like joo," the troll stated, extending a hand to shake Krom'gar's.

Krom'gar decided he could do better for friends on day one of Hero life, but also knew that beggars couldn't be choosers (since he generally was picked second to last for "kick the human skull" ball), so he extended his hand in return and said, "Krom'gar, son of Loxtan, son of…. Ah well he was my grandpa whoever he was."

Malladen nodded solemnly, "It be a pleasure Krom'gar."

"You can call me Krom for short. Krom'gar is formal, used for dinner parties and stuff…"

"Ah, sure ting mon."

"So, do you know where to look for Sergeant Skullcrusher?"

"Yeah, e be ova der mon." Malladen pointed towards what appeared to be a wrestling circle. There was a heavy crowd gathered around it. Krom'gar forced his way through the crowd and bore witness to the most awe inspiring event of his life. A massive orc, with shoulders twice the width of his, and with muscles that put a body builder to shame, was wrestling an _ogre_ and winning, no problem. The orc in fact, had the ogre just about hog tied. The ogre was struggling mightily, but the orc simply completed tying the knot on the ogre's bonds with a quick flourish.

"That Is how it's done!" roared the orc.

"Skullcrusher! Skullcrusher!" cheered the crowd.

"All right you lazy dogs!" roared Skullcrusher, "Back to work!"

The crowd filtered away rapidly, the various orcs and trolls going back to their duties. Krom'gar approached Skullcrusher with no small amount of trepidation; this orc was easily two feet taller than him.

"Er, Sergeant Skullcrusher? Krom'gar reporting for duty. For the Horde and stuff."

Skullcrusher turned around and Krom'gar got a good look at him, or rather, her.

"By Thrall's unshaven chin!" exclaimed Krom'gar, "You're a girl!"

Skullcrusher's face quickly transitioned from the normalcy of green, to red-green, to purple-green, to seething rage-green.

"AND WHAT," roared Skullcrusher, "DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH ME BEING YOUR COMMANDING OFFICER? WELL PUNK? SPEAK UP!"

Krom'gar of course could not speak up because he had been hoisted into the air and was steadily choking to death owing to Skullcrusher crushing his windpipe.

"Eh Sergeant, e wasn't sayen nothing bad about joo, just exclaimen surprise," Malladen interjected from behind Krom'gar.

Skullcrusher's angry scowl slowly melted into a angry frown, and then into an angry glare. With a huff, the sergeant set Krom'gar back on the ground. Krom'gar coughed and leaned on his knees, trying to recover his breath. He though his neck might have shrunk in diameter.

Skullcrusher continued to glare at Krom'gar, but seemed to have put the incident behind her.

"Krom'gar, eh. I heard about you. Apparently you have no balls." Skullcrusher said nonchalantly.

Krom'gar wasn't about to argue with Skullcrusher since he figured she could kill him by blinking at him. He was used to having his pride stabbed, shot, beaten, and horribly mutilated, so the insult didn't overly faze him.

Skullcrusher seemed put-out when he didn't rise to the bait.

"Well no matter. My job is to make sure you grow a pair before your stint here is over. Oh and don't worry," Skullcrusher grinned delightedly, "We'll make sure you have lots of intensive training. We're going to make you boys _strong_."

"Krom'gar, bunk four. Troll, I'll handle your paperwork, and then you can settle in bunk one." Malladen stayed with Skullcrusher while Krom'gar wandered over to the bunkhouses (which were just lean-tos). After a quick count, he noticed there were only three bunk houses. He walked over to a bored looking guard who had just moments before been picking his nose and asked, "Uh, where's bunk tent thing four?"

The guard let out a hearty guffaw and continued to laugh uproariously for several minutes, during which Krom'gar noticed unpleasantly the guard had what appeared to be boar ligament stuck between his front two teeth, and after finally settling down enough to speak, replied, "Bunkhouse four is there."

Krom'gar followed the guard's finger and saw he was pointing at a blanket draped over what appeared to be six or so cacti.

The guard chuckled again, "Bunkhouse four is reserved for people who piss of Skullcrusher on day one. And there's really only one way to piss of Skullcrusher…"

Krom'gar rolled his eyes and walked downtrodden to his cactus house.

He was really starting to hate his life.


	2. Dem Boars

Most well-known military stories start with the trumpet in the morning. You know the one. Krom'gar's morning started with several loud screams and several long cactus spines in his face. The other inhabitants of Bunkhouse four were less than happy.

"Would you please SHUT THE HELL UP?" yelled Lenray.

Personally Krom'gar had been surprised to find out he wasn't the only one in the bunkhouse. Turns out there was more than one way to get thrown into Bunkhouse four. Lenray had been put in for constantly wiping his group in the field. He would always attack before everyone was ready, run in and shout, "LENRAAAAYYY! JENKINS!" He was told by numerous people the joke was old and not funny, but he didn't get the hint. So it was Bunkhouse four for Lenray.

"Lighten up Lenray. You've woken up to a face full of cactus more than one morning," Pownsu said.

Apparently Pownsu had been thrown in Bunkhouse four for having a stupid name. He steadfastly insisted that it was the name he was born with, and continued to cry, "Discrimination!" Skullcrusher told him she'd seen his type before and knew the only way to handle them was with humiliation and isolation.

"Whatever," grunted Lenray. Krom'gar was too busy picking cactus spines out of his face to reply, so Lenray proceeded to exit the bunkhouse. Pownsu followed after a moment, leaving Krom'gar alone to wallow in pain.

It was lucky for Krom'gar he'd face-planted into the cactus an hour before he was supposed to be up, because it took him nearly an hour to pull all the spines out. At last, staggering out of the blanket-draped cacti, Krom'gar emerged into day one of his life as a hero of the Horde. Turns out there was a lot more to it than he'd realized.

"All right scrubs listen up!"

Everyone's head turned at the sound of Sergeant Skullcrusher's voice.

"Today marks the beginning of your new life as a hero of the Horde. Now most of you are just a massive disappointment and will probably die an inglorious death fighting a boar somewhere."

"Great," thought Krom'gar, "Just the boost my motivation needed.

"However," continued Skullcrusher, "Some of you will go on to slay dragons and kill Alliance by the thousands."

"But before you do either of those things, you must decide _how _you will do those things."

At Skullcrusher's words everyone looked at each other in confusion. Skullcrusher seemed unsurprised by this reaction, as if this just confirmed they were all a group of total imbeciles.

"You need to choose your class morons."

"Ohhhh," the crowd said collectively.

Mere minutes later they were all lined up to choose their class and receive their initial training, as well as receive their starting gear.

Krom'gar was about middle of the line, right in front of a troll, and behind another orc.

"Eh mon. Sleep well?" asked the troll.

It took Krom'gar a moment to match the face to the voice, but it clicked quick enough (for Krom'gar anyway).

"I've slept better, Malladen," Krom'gar said not at all truthfully; memories of his face being a light-bright board were still fresh.

"Dat's good mon. Bunkhouse one be a nice one. Got me own hammock an room."

"Yea… well… I've got…" Luckily Krom'gar was spared having to make it seem like he didn't live in a hobo den because it was his turn next.

"Name?" asked the troll sitting at the table.

"Krom'gar." Krom'gar said.

"Already taken. Try again." Krom'gar's jaw dropped. His name was _taken?_

"Uh…But that's my name…"

The troll sighed and put on a long suffering look, "All right kid, listen close cause I'll only say this once. As a hero of the Horde you get to choose your own name, but for purposes of records and taxation each Hero must be uniquely named. Krom'gar is taken."

"By who?"

"Some level eighteen gnome."

"Wait a sec. I can't use my own name, because some gnome on the other side of the world has my name? And what the heck do you mean "level eighteen?"

The troll let out a long sigh and muttered, "Newbs…" under his breath.

"Look kid. Just choose a different name, all right? Might I suggest: Krum'gar, Korm'gar, or Gar'Krom?"

Despite feeling violated at having his name stolen by some gnome, Krom'gar decided that he could choose a new name and get over it.

"Fine then. Krom will do."

The troll perused his papers briefly.

"Okay. This all looks to be in order. Proceed through the door here Krom."

There was, of course, no door since it was a cave. Krom ignored this minor detail though. Inside the cave he found seven assorted orcs and trolls all standing around looking bored. An eighth orc was off to the side leaning against the wall. The orc beckoned Krom over.

"Welcome to the "cave of class-choosing," he said in a bored voice.

The seven others all looked equally bored.

"In this magical place, when you decide on what class you want to be, you will be magically locked into being that class forever, and the various skills of other classes will be foreign to you forever more."

Krom noticed the orc seemed to be reading all this off a slip of paper.

"Now it is time for you to choose your class young…"the orc looked up and eyed Krom briefly, "orc."

"As an orc you are one of the privileged few who can choose to be a: warrior, rogue, hunter, warlock, or shaman."

The orc swept his hand toward the trainers, "So hurry up and choose. Also, how many more of you are out there?"

Krom thought briefly, then performed some quick math on his fingers. He ran out of fingers and had to use his toes. Ran out of toes too "Uh, can I use your fingers?" he asked.

The orc looked like he was about to cry, "Never mind. Just choose your class."

Krom carefully considered his options. He'd known for a long time spell casting was out of the question, ever since the "quillboar incident." Hunter was also a no-go, as the last pet he'd had had done its best to kill him, twice. And while rogue seemed very appealing, poisons weren't his strong suit. He still remembered the "swallowed a bunch of poison" incident.

Looks like he was pigeon-holed into being a, "Warrior. I'll be a warrior." Krom said.

"Sounds good," said the orc. "Go talk to Markrul the Mauler and he'll make you into a warrior." The orc pointed at a burly looking orc who seemed to be carrying enough weapons for six hands.

"Throm-ka young…" Markul glanced briefly over his head for some reason, "Krom. Today I make you into a warrior. Here is your first training lesson."

Markrul pulled out what looked suspiciously like his dad's blunt mace.

"We need to give you some rage."

"Oh shi-." The thought went flying from Krom's head, and Krom smashed headlong into the wall.

Krom held his head groggily and pulled himself up slowly. It felt like his head had experienced its own cataclysm. He also thought he heard a lot of laughter from the orc by the wall.

He could only just make out what Markrul was saying.

"Well that seemed to give you quite a spin. But I don't see any rage. Oh well. ROUND TWO!"

"Oh motherfu-," Krom was smashed forcefully into the ground, as though a kodo had stomped on him.

"Oh we're seeing some rage now. I think another hit ought to-,"

"Not this time," Krom thought. Something was different this time. Despite having taken two cracks to the skull in as many minutes, Krom felt clarity of mind that he had never experienced before. He saw the mace rise up, as if in slow motion. He heard himself saying, "-," and felt the mace crack into his skull again.

"Damn it all," Krom thought.

"Well now that was quite something," Markrul said, "You'll be a warrior all right. You already have battle instinct. You just lack the training to actually use it; otherwise you might have dodged that time. Maybe."

"And you definitely have some rage now. Time to teach you your basic ability."

Markrul helped Krom to his feet and sat him on a bench nearby. Krom thought his skull might have fractured into three or twelve pieces, but Markrul's compliment had put enough spirit into him that he thought he could at least attempt to pay attention.

Markrul approached the training dummy and pulled out his broadsword.

"Now. Observe."

Markrul whipped the sword over his head and screamed, "HEROIC STRIIIIIIKKKKKEEEE!" and brought the sword down with a mighty slash which cleaved the dummy in two. Then fourths.

"All right. That's it," Markrul said, "Your done training for now. Go collect your gear and head to the staging area."

Awed and humbled by the display of power, Krom stood up and began to walk down the hall. He was seeing about three different halls at once, but figured if he went straight he'd be all right.

Mere moments later Krom was standing in the armory. Which was yet another cave. The only difference was an assortment of exceptionally crappy looking gear adorned the walls.

"Class and weapon preference?" came a voice to Krom's left. Krom looked over and found yet another (surprise) orc.

"Warrior. And how about a… axe!" Krom said enthusiastically. He could already envision himself in that wicked looking battle armor, mighty axe at his side, ready to scream, "Heroic Strike!" and cleave training dummies in four.

He was so wrapped up in this happy vision that he barely even noticed when the orc put his new armor and axe in his hands.

"It's beautiful!" Krom cried.

Until he actually looked at what he had. A badly stained and frayed linen shirt, some too small brown trousers, and what appeared to be rabbit fur boots.

His axe was equally impressive. It appeared to be a stick with a very dull piece of metal strapped on it and held in place by some crude leather wrappings.

Not exactly what Krom had been expecting.

"Erm, I hate to ask, but why are we issued garbage to use in battle?" Krom asked.

The orc just grinned at him and pointed at a nearby sign which read: "Throm-ka new heroes! We of the upper offices of Orgrimmar have collected much gold to provide all of you with this battle gear you now hold. It is top of the line and will hold up in any battle. Complaints may be issued to Sergeant Skullcrusher. Lok'tar!"

"I see," was all Krom had to say.

"Yeah I know," the other orc said, "It probably isn't what you expected, but look on the bright side! At least we aren't sending you into battle naked."

"This is hardly better."

"We used to issue bread and water to new recruits also, but budget cuts happen."

"Exactly how much money is spent on us new heroes?"

The other orc just grinned again and said, "To find that out you'll have to wait until Orgrimmar issues its financial disclosure statements. Now get out."

Krom obliged. He was finally trained and equipped. He made a quick detour by the changing room, and emerged in his brand new battle armor.

Moments later Malladen emerged out of the changing room next to him.

"Lookin good mon," he said.

"You're not dressed a lot better," Krom remarked.

He wasn't. The only real difference was that he had a pair of daggers at his side.

"Ah well. Dis be only temporary."

Krom only grunted in response.

Malladen shrugged and the two of them walked outside to the staging grounds. Already a large crowd of new heroes was gathered around the large bonfire. Most of them were dueling, trying out their new skills. It was a pitiful demonstration. Krom had seen better fights between two toddlers. He noticed that Pownsu was dueling as many people as he could. Then he wondered why Pownsu was there, since he was supposed to be out completing his daily training.

Krom decided now was a good time to get to know the heroes he would one day endure epic battles with, and brave untold dangers alongside. They would serve together proudly, and usher in the new era of the Horde.

"I'm a warlock! WHOOSH!"

Turns out the new era would be ushered in by morons. Krom quickly found maybe one in ten of all the recruits had an IQ above sixty. In fact Krom would have preferred to raid with Forest Gump over most of these guys.

Luckily he was spared having to argue over the finer points of how to tie your shoes by the arrival of Sergeant Skullcrusher. The sergeant climbed up on to the improve podium ( a box), and called for quiet.

"SHUT IT RIGHT NOW!"

Everyone obliged. Immediately.

"Now that I have your attention, I will be laying out your daily training. You will wake up each morning the moment the sun is up. Breakfast is bread. If you want more, go kill something and learn cooking. After breakfast you will kill boars until lunch at one o' clock. After your five minute Horde sanctioned lunch break you will kill scorpions. During the day you are to collect fifty cactus apples. No gloves allowed (Krom wept silently). The day is over at eight o' clock. This routine will continue for four days."

There was much surprise at this announcement. Four days seemed to be nothing.

Skullcrusher anticipated these thoughts and quickly and efficiently crushed everyone's hopes.

"I expect that after these four days are up, nine out of ten of you should be dead or have realized you're not cut out for the job. Inevitably I am sure some of the stupid ones will slip through the cracks on dumb luck. We can only hope they die before leaving Durotar."

It was easy to tell who the stupid ones were at that point. They all looked overly smug that they would not be dead in four days.

Sadly, Krom was falling into that category at this point.

"Four days seems… extremely easy,"

"Well mon, I expect dis will be a bit more dan you tink it will be."

"Yea. Boring I bet."

Malladen shrugged in response.

Skullcrusher was speaking again, "Well now heroes, I think we have enough day left for you all to go kill fifty boars."

From the front of the crowd some hippie spoke up, "But Sergeant! If we all kill that many boars won't the population be wiped out?"

The Sergeant shook her head derisively, "Durotar boars breed once a day, every day, and generally have up to two-hundred young per litter. They also mature in one day. This is the only way we can actually keep them from overrunning the world."

The crowd was stunned.

"Well, actually that's just what we theorize. We don't know why, but there's never a shortage of boars or scorpions."

"NOW GET TO IT!" roared the Sergeant.

The new heroes scattered in various different directions, each one eager to prove their mettle.

"Well good luck mon," Malladen said, and then he was off to.

Krom figured it was time. Time to show his father (and maybe some other people) that he wasn't totally worthless. After two minutes of leisurely walking, Krom spotted his first boar. It was ruffling around the roots of a cactus under a ridge nearby. It hadn't spotted Krom yet, so Krom decided not to give it any warning. He tip-toed stealthily (for an orc) up to the top of the ridge and peeked over. The boar seemed to still be looking for something edible. It was completely ignorant to Krom. This was it.

Krom carefully unslung his axe, unsheathing it slowly, very slowly, lest it make a sound that warned the boar. It was time. He remembered how Markrul had done it. He knew it was his moment. After this he would be a true hero.

He leapt up, axe in hand. With a roar so ferocious that a nearby troll hunter wet himself, Krom took a flying leap off the top of the ledge. "HEROIC STRIIIIKKKEEE!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

The axe descended and hit the boar squarely on the head.

The boar just looked at him.

Krom looked at the boar, then his axe. Which was now just a stick.

Apparently in mid-arc the axe blade had flown off the handle.

"Oh crap," was all Krom got out before the boar tackled him and began doing its best to kill him, which was surprisingly good for a boar. Krom found out quickly that tusks do a good job rending flesh, and those Durotar boars, despite being vegetarians, have serrated teeth.

Luckily for Krom he still had his stick. Using the distance the stick awarded him, he whacked the boar as many times as he possibly could, all the while running away and screaming, "OH DEAR GOD NOT THE FACE!"

It took him a good minute of running away, but eventually the boar fell dead at Krom's feet. Panting with the exertion of a battle so intense, it made most arena matches look like a bowling game; Krom planted a foot on the boar's corpse and howled his victory to the world.

"Truly on this day am I made a hero!" Krom proclaimed to no one in particular. A passing scorpion might have looked approvingly at him, but who can tell with scorpions?

Krom got on a roll after that, and his axe actually stayed together, making things easier. By the end of the day he had slain his fifty and accumulated a surprisingly large amount of loot. Mostly boar meat and tusks, but for some unexplainable reason the boars had armor and clothes on them as well.

Malladen came trudging in mere moments later. He clapped Krom on the back and said, "Good job mon! Ya lived!"

"Well yea," Krom said, "It wasn't that tough."

"Yam on, but you mighta died like dem."

Krom followed Malladen's gaze and was shocked to see that probably as many as fifteen of the other recruits were dead. And naked.

"Ya see mon? Afta four days, most of dem be dead be my guess."

"The boars raped them?"

"We can on'y guess mon."


	3. Team Exercise

From day one till day five, from sunup till sundown, Krom fought tooth and nail to stem the ever advancing tide of boars and scorpions hell-bent on taking over the Valley of Trials. It hadn't been easy, many of Krom's comrades had perished ingloriously during the training, later being found dead and naked in the desert. Against all odds, Krom had survived. Skullcrusher expressed every day her shock that he was still alive. Malladen told him in private she always sent patrols out looking for his body, hoping to find him dead.

Krom was having none of that. He had done it! No mangy boar or giant scorpion could get in his way!

And finally, today was the day he would be finished with the menial training. One last, grand task lay before him, Skullcrusher hadn't said what, but he knew it would be an epic undertaking.

The proud eight heroes remaining of what had originally been well over a hundred applicants stood awaiting their orders outside the entrance to the den.

_It's been a long five days._ Krom thought to himself wistfully. He had met many impressive new heroes, and a helluva lot more complete imbeciles.

He still thought of them fondly.

Lenray had graduated a mere two days earlier, and been unceremoniously thrown from the Valley.

Pownsu had been found dead and naked in the desert, an unfortunate victim of the boar's perverted appetites.

Hu'tesh the warlock had accidently set himself on fire, and never knew about drop and roll, and so burned like a heathen before the church of the light.

Grub'gor the Mighty had been accosted by a gang of boars toward the end of the day; they were not gentle. They still hadn't found all his body parts either.

But through it all Krom had survived. He'd had some close calls, but lucky for him Malladen was there to bail him out if things got too rough. The troll rogue had proved an invaluable companion on more than one occasion.

Today was it though, and Krom was ready. He would be assigned his final task, which, if completed signified he was worthy enough to become a brand new hero of the Horde.

Skullcrusher finally emerged from her lean-to tent. She surveyed the remaining eight heroes distastefully. Her eyes briefly alighted on Krom, and in those eyes Krom beheld a vision, a vision which contained equal parts hatred and disgust. That vision found him wanting. Lucky for Krom, his mind tended to wander, so while this vision was attempting to make him feel like dirt, he was envisioning himself enjoying a nice, crispy, taco.

"All right then scrubs. Here you stand before me, the best of the worst. We had to sift through a lot of kodo shit to dig out you nuggets, and we still don't know if you'll be worth it."

Skullcrusher was looking at Krom for the entire last part of her speech.

"Today is a duo mission, because in life, you have to learn to work as a team, and sometimes your team mate doesn't have enough brain power to light a candle. As a team you'll have to make up for each other's failings, and play on each other's strengths. You can either be an unstoppable force, or a dead weight dragging down your partner. Frankly I don't care what you do. Just pick your team member so we can get this started and I never have to see you worms ever again. You all have until midnight to finish your assigned task."

The eight heroes quickly moved into four pairs. Krom was pleased to find himself paired with Malladen. Malladen looked a little less than thrilled. Apparently he had been trying to catch the eye of Jumanra, the curvaceous troll priest.

Krom couldn't have hoped for better.

"Well Malladen, looks like it's just you and me against the world!"

Malladen smiled weakly.

"Ya mon, da world."

Skullcrusher seemed to be distributing the missions personally to each of the teams; she would be talking to Krom and Malladen next.

"All right then, you heard that inspiring speech Skully gave, we need to… bake up some railings, and make an… unmoppable floor, and, uh, what else did she say?"

"Don worry bout it mon. We can get de job done all righ'. You be a warrior, so whiles joo distract da enemy, I be sneakin in and dealen de death blow. It be elementary mon."

"Got it. Distraction. Sounds a lot like when dad used to take me hunting. He put something called raptor pheromone on me, and told me to stand in the desert or a couple of hours. I still have some of the scars… in very disturbing places."

Krom shuddered at the very memory of those hunting trips.

"Well well well, Malladen and Krom."

Skullcrusher eyed Krom sourly, and Malladen with an appraising eye.

"To you two falls the task of cleansing the nearby caves from the demons who have moved in. I expect a healthy number of dead demons, and in addition, retrieve the medallion from the Burning Blade warlock who is summoning the demons. That should be sufficient."

"Now Krom, this is my last chance to get you killed, so don't screw it up."

"Don't worry sergeant! I won't let you down!"

"And Malladen, f you survive this, I'll see about getting a recommendation through to Razor Hill for you."

"It be appreciated sarge."

"Of course it is. Now get going, you both have until midnight."

Krom and Malladen saluted briefly, and started their trek through the desert to the location Skullcrusher had described.

Krom found the walk rather boring. He trudged along mindlessly, not paying much attention to the trail.

Malladen, on the other hand, fended off several attacks by rabid boars, and faced off against a vicious sortie by several scorpions. The boars were closing in on him, but Malladen had an advantage, opposable thumbs, the bane of any creature that walks on four legs. The boars rushed Malladen, nearly blind with rage. As the first boar came rushing at him, Malladen calmly sidestepped the boar, and whipped his knife across the boar's throat, dropping in to the ground instantly. The other boar leapt straight for his throat, but Malladen merely grabbed it by the tusk, and threw it over head, cutting it down the middle as he threw it. The last boar decided, in the interest of self preservation, to bid a hasty retreat.

The scorpions, having seen the troll rogue's might, decided to attack in a phalanx maneuver, so as to overwhelm him and avoid the boars' fates. The attack seemed to be a success at first, until the scorpions realized the troll was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly one of the scorpions screeched and dropped dead, a dagger sticking out of its back and scorpion blood spraying everywhere. Malladen was standing behind it, a grim angel of death, come to claim the scorpions.

"Screw this shit man!" said Scorpion A. He bolted and hid under a rock where he wept silently and prayed to whatever gods scorpions have.

Scorpion B and C made a valiant effort, but neither one could come close to matching the troll rogue. Scorpion A would later relay their fates back to the scorpion council, after wetting himself multiple times and passing out in fright, and the tale would become a legend among scorpions, such that in several hundred years, mother scorpions would frighten their kids into doing stuff by saying, "If you don't eat your cactus, the troll rogue will come and stab your guts out." It usually did the trick.

Krom, of course, hadn't seen any of this.

He had arrived at the entrance to the caves though and was wondering where the heck Malladen was. Typical trolls, totally undependable.

He was starting to get impatient when Malladen finally walked out from behind a ridge.

"It's about time! Where have you been? Admiring the scenery?"

"Somtin like dat."

"Well here are the caves Skully talked about. She said all we have to do is kill some demons and recover some old medallion. Should be simple eh?"

"I can on'y pray mon."

The cave entrance was dark. No surprises there. It yawned open, a black pit in an otherwise red, dusty cliff face.

"All right, I'll go first, and you follow after."

"Sure ting mon."

Krom un-slung his axe. It was brand new, shiny, sharp and serviceable. After looting so much trash from all those scorpions and boars, he had sold it all, and saved enough silver to buy an axe which was actually serviceable. He couldn't fathom why anyone wanted scorpion eyeballs, but he figured there must be an underground black market fetish trade where the vendors made up their losses.

Krom stepped into the dark cave. It was pitch black. Like really, really, really dark. He took a couple steps in. A couple more. He smacked into a wall.

"Ok. Screw this. Let's make a torch."

One torch later.

Krom stepped into the dark cave. He could actually see this time thanks to the torch. What he saw almost made him scream. Luckily he lost his voice. The walls were covered in little red demon imps, each one a mere three feet tall, but sporting savagely sharp claws and wicked looking fangs. There were too many to count at first glance, and Krom was pretty sure he would have run out of toes before he could finish. Luckily, they seemed to be sleeping.

Malladen stepped up beside him and frowned.

"Dey be sleepin mon. Sometin not be right here."

He approached a nearby imp cautiously and poked a couple of times in the arm. It stirred lightly, but did nothing else. Malladen sighed.

"Dis be a walk in de park if dey all be sleepin. Wanna wake dem up?"

"HELL NO!" Krom screamed. His voice had returned, explosively.

The imps stirred. Their eyes slowly opened, revealing devilish pure red pupils, which quickly lit up in glee seeing fresh meat wander so willingly into their home. They began stretching, as if they had slept long, and climbing down from the walls.

"Malladen! You woke the imps! Why'd you do that?" Krom sobbed hysterically.

Malladen merely raised an eyebrow and unsheathed his daggers.

"Distract dem Krom." He said, and vanished.

Krom was alone.

"Uh, so…"

Krom gulped a couple times to clear his throat.

"An ogre, a murloc, and Arthas walk into a bar. The bartender says, "What'll it be?" The ogre says, "Rah," The murloc says, "Rrrgrgrgl," and Arthas says, "I'll have one of each!"

Krom was sure the crickets could be heard all the way in Orgrimmar.

"Ey. Krom. Attack dem."

"What?"

"Are you Horde or not? Get dat axe out an kick some ass!"

"Oh yea."

That was all the prompting Krom needed. He whipped his axe out and it was like he was a new orc. He had learned a lot of new moves from his trainer to. He was faster, stronger, and more dangerous. The memories were fresh in his mind.

"_Now see here Krom," said Markrul, "You just plant your feet like this." Markrul spread his feet about a foot apart, "And rush your enemy, like this." He sprinted so quickly, that he blurred in front of Krom and slammed into the training dummy, knocking it over. "And that is charge. That'll be fifteen silver."_

The injustice still stung.

Krom planted is feet in the prescribed stance, one foot apart, and held his axe at the ready. The imps were fully awake and beginning to surround Krom, eager for blood. Krom picked one out.

That one.

"CHAAAAARRRGGEE!" He rushed at high speeds towards the imp, but as he did, he felt a tug; one of his feet wouldn't lift off the ground. He looked back, and gasped in horror at what he saw. His boot lace had come undone, and he was pinning himself down! Unfortunately, he had built up too much momentum at this point, and there was no stopping.

"Wooaahhh!"

Krom was launched into the air by his momentum. He ricocheted off the cavern wall, and bounced back with enough force that he close-lined several imps, with his axe. The move was surprisingly effective.

Krom crashed into the opposite cave wall, covered in imp guts and rock chips. The impact had dazed him mightily. The other imps ignored the swift demise of their brethren and quickly closed in for the kill. Just as the nearest imp pounced, it was stilled in mid-air, a dagger pinning it to the wall. Malladen materialized next to Krom, crouched and ready for battle.

"Not a bad move dere Krom, but I recommend tryin new moves when we aren't fightin for our lives."

Krom was seeing only stars.

The imps piled on the two heroes like a rock slide. Malladen danced among them, his daggers flashing like lightning, and equally lethal. Krom lay ineffectively on the floor and marveled at the pretty lights flashing in front of his eyes. Malladen swiftly cut down two imps debating the best way to cook Krom, and leapt to the side, as a fireball flashed by him. He spotted the fire-flinging imp, and whipped his dagger toward the imp. As soon as the dagger left his hand, he was off. Using his other dagger, he impaled an imp reaching out for him to the wall, barely managed to dodge another imp's bite, and leapt over two imps who attempted to grab his ankles. He landed on the imp his thrown dagger had impaled. He quickly pulled the dagger out and turned to face the advancing imps. It seemed he would be overrun.

"LOK'TAR OGAR!" Krom roared as he full on tackled the imps. Malladen noticed he had left his axe behind and rolled his eyes. He would have to have a talk with Krom.

Nevertheless, even without his axe, Krom was putting up a fierce fight, doing his best to simply lash about with his fists. He clobbered one imp right into a wall. Another one went sailing clear out of the cave. The imps, however, had numbers, and were clawing him to shreds all the while cackling gleefully in their impish voices.

_Good thing I have this excellent Horde issued armor_. He thought._ Oh wait._

Just as Krom was about to be smothered by the sheer number of imps, they began screeching and attempting to flee. Krom gazed up from where he lay and beheld a sight unlike many others.

Malladen had coated his daggers in the pitch from the torch and set them alight, granting him two potent weapons, pointy knives, and fire. He was plowing into the imps like rumor suggested Thrall did to Jaina every Friday. The imps had had enough. They fled into the dark recesses of the cave.

Malladen tossed his daggers aside and helped Krom up.

"Dat be one helluva fight mon."

"No kidding." Krom panted. He was severely winded, and had numerous small cuts all over.

Malladen handed him his axe, "Don forget dis again. Savin your ass three times in one day be more den I can handle."

Krom accepted the weapon sheepishly. He had gotten too caught up in the heat of the moment.

Malladen was busy trying to smother his flaming daggers, so Krom figured he'd better get the torch.

He picked it up from where it lay burning quietly in the cave. He held it up and observed the aftermath of their battle. Imps were strewn far all over the cave, burned, stabbed, beaten, and cleaved. It was a proud sight Krom decided. Malladen walked over to stand beside him, daggers sheathed and not on fire.

He gestured for Krom to lead the way.

Two hours of pointless wandering later, Malladen was leading the way.

The cave was mostly devoid of life now. The imps were doing their best to stay away from the dangerous intruders, and so were doing safer activities, like harassing Horde peons or playing bridge.

Krom and Malladen moved unmolested through the cave, the latter bringing up the front. They rounded a corner, and walked by a silent pool of water, still, and dark, stretching out into the cave. Krom wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a pair of glowing eyes watching him from out there on the water, something on a boat maybe. He decided he'd best pretend he'd seen nothing.

The two heroes rounded another corner, and found their target. An orc wearing red and black robes was kneeling on the outcropping overlooking the cave proper. The area around him was illuminated by weak torches, casting a sickly glow over the area. He appeared to be kneeling in a rune circle painted with blood. Probably children's blood if Krom knew anything about warlocks (which he didn't, it was women AND children).

The orc may have been praying, or summoning more demons. Krom thought it best they didn't wait to find out. Malladen dropped the torch, as he slipped into stealth. Krom pulled out his axe, and prepared to strike.

Suddenly the orc stood up and turned around. It was such an abrupt move that Krom didn't think to do anything (which is pretty typical actually). The orc smiled knowingly at Krom.

"Ah, so the vaunted Horde has come at last." The orc said mockingly.

"I would be scared, but thanks to my pact with the demons, I have more power than you can possibly comprehend. Prepare to bear witness, first hand."

The orc brought his hand up sharply, and directed it in a slashing motion towards Krom.

Krom was no Orcstein, but he was smart enough to dodge a slashing gesture. Good thing to, because the stalactite behind him was cut cleanly in two as though a giant sword had swept through it.

The orc didn't let up. With dark energies coursing around his hands, he unleashed a furious barrage of shadow bolts at Krom.

Krom ran frantically back and forth, narrowly avoiding some, feeling some graze his arm, and leave a lingering impression of burning agony. Where the bolts impacted the wall, they left smoking craters. He knew he didn't want to get hit by one of those. If only he could close the distance somehow, get close. Then he knew he could win.

He had only one choice. He would have to charge. He glanced at his boots. Both laces tied. This time for sure. He would only get one shot. After a quick, astute study of the other orc, he determined the best time would be when the orc was preparing to cast another shadow bolt.

The orc launched a bolt at Krom. He swiftly sidestepped and assumed the charging stance. The orc was preparing the incantation, shadowy energy swirling around his hands.

_Now or never_! Krom thought.

"CHAAARGGGEE!" Krom roared as he rushed the orc.

A look of panic came over the orc, but he continued to cast his spell, and, with a look of triumph, launched his shadow bolt at Krom.

The bolt was coming straight at Krom, as if in slow motion. He saw it coming, knew what it would take to avoid it. He prepared himself; a simple lean to the left should do-

The bolt slammed into Krom, shooting him backwards into the wall. He impacted hard, leaving a decently sized crater, and slid down into a sitting position.

_DAMN IT ALL!_ He screamed to himself. For good reason. His body felt like it had dark energy coursing all over it, attempting to devour him and destroy him. Oh wait.

"Hah! In the end, all fall before the might of the burn-"

The orc was cut off mid-speech. He choked and looked down at his chest, where two daggers were protruding. The orc gestured wildly, to no effect, and collapsed on the ground in a steadily spreading pool of blood.

Malladen stood there, looking for the entire world as though he had had no trouble at all (which he hadn't).

"Rogues…" Krom muttered sourly.

"Eh, cheer up Krom. Dat was an impressive charge. He was truly terrified to see ya comin for him."

"You think?"

"Oh ya. You woulda ripped him to shreds had you gotten at him."

Krom decided Malladen was right, and there was no point worrying about it. There would be plenty of other mighty foes he would best. They had passed their test. They were true heroes of the Horde.

Malladen picked the amulet off the fallen warlock's neck and handed it to Krom.

"Here mon, let's see Skully's face when you hand dis in."

Krom grinned.

* * *

The look on Skullcrusher's face was pure gold. Krom and Malladen had made it back with four hours to spare until midnight, and had proudly presented the medallion to her.

Her jaw worked soundlessly for several moments before she cleared her throat and straightened up.

"Truly, I am truly, impressed boys. That particular mission I sent you on has claimed well over thirty teams to date, and was considered too dangerous to actually allow any new hero recruits to even attempt anymore."

Malladen looked slightly incredulous, only slightly. Krom was still basking in the glow of victory, so the words didn't fully register.

Skullcrusher accepted the medallion from Krom and looked on them both with a newfound respect.

"Well boys, all I can say is, congratulations. You are both officially heroes of the Horde. After today, you are free to go where you will, but you must continue to serve the Horde cause no matter where your travels take you."

"Since you are the first team back, you can leave whenever you choose. Most teams prefer to leave immediately, as the Valley, admittedly, has crummy sleeping conditions."

Krom and Malladen conferred briefly and decided it would be best to leave now. The quicker they were on their way, the quicker they could begin their work in Sen'jin or Razor Hill.

As they turned to go, Skullcrusher pulled Malladen aside.

"Tell me the truth; was it all you back in the cave?"

"Sergeant, Krom may not seem to be much, but I got a feelin dat someday, his name be famous all over da Horde. In dat cave, it was me and him. We was a team, and we got dat together," he indicated the medallion.

Skullcrusher nodded, looking much put out. She handed Malladen a sealed letter.

"This is your letter of recommendation, as promised Malladen. But whoever you give it to, I'd ask that…"

She seemed to be having trouble saying something.

"That- that—you tell them Krom is meant to be included also."

She pulled out a blank piece of parchment and scribbled her name on it quickly.

"This should take care of any doubt."

Malladen accepted the signature and folded it up with the letter.

"C'mon Malladen! Let's get going!" Krom called out.

Malladen walked over to Krom. The two turned back to the sergeant one final time.

Sergeant Skullcrusher, against all her pride and initial beliefs, saluted the two in respect.

Krom and Malladen saluted her back.

The two turned around and walked on. Down the road and out of the Valley of Trials. Skullcrusher watched them a while longer. She had the feeling that a legend was in the making. Damn shame she was stuck policing new pups in the Valley of Trials.

* * *

"Hey Grunk."

"Yea Brunk?"

"We got some graduates coming out."

"Big deal."

Krom and Malladen walked past the two guards and stopped for a moment, briefly looking out at the land of Durotar.

"Bet you guys think your tough stuff eh?" Brunk said mockingly, "don't get full of yourselves, the Valley is only the beginning, out here, things get rough." He looked out at the land meaningfully.

"Quit trying to be impressive Brunk, that didn't even make sense you know."

"Damn it Grunk, you always steal my thunder!"

"You failed your quest giver exam, remember? I'm just trying to make sure you don't go all "role-playey" on me here."

"Those standardized questions are cheap and you know it!

"Yea, 'What are the primary quest types?' Super cheap. They certainly aren't: Kill, Gather, Get Laid, and Drink Beer."

"I thought it was asking my _ideal_ quest types, and I-."

Krom and Malladen exchanged a glance and shrugged. Who really listened to what guards had to say?

Weapons at the ready, and with new battle experience, the two walked off into Durotar.

* * *

Hey, NobleSavage here. Sorry this update took so long, but I had to finish my last shift at work. And there is no internet where I worked. Pure torture.

Anyway, I'd like to thank all the people who have shown interest in Blood and Glory, it's for you people who enjoy the story that I continue to write.

If you want to know when the next update is projected for (and see a possible short description/passage from the next chapter) then visit my profile.

NS out.


	4. Gazz'unteit!

Krom and Malladen made good time and arrived at Sen'jin village within a couple of minutes. Seeing as how it is was pretty late by then, and sleep is good, they called it a night, and went partying with the trolls to celebrate their graduation. Trolls know how to party.

It was about halfway through his sixth upside down chug that Krom finally passed out. Malladen roared with laughter seeing Krom hanging upside down from the chugging pole, snoring loudly with beer dripping down his face.

"Ah mon, it be grand to be home again," Malladen sighed wistfully.

The next morning things felt a little less grand for both of them.

Krom thought he had a forge of dwarves building a steam engine inside his skull. Malladen simply lay spread eagle on the floor, saying nothing and groaning every so often.

The headache was bad enough the Krom began considering all the outlandish cures he had ever heard of, just to get rid of the headache. He began mentally ticking off the list.

Crab mucus mixed with troll sweat? No thanks.

Essence of peacebloom and seawater? Sounds promising.

Your own fingernail clippings and three rocks? He was pretty sure that one might work.

A sudden knock on their door caused both of them to whimper in pain.

"Come in," Krom whispered.

The door opened and in marched an official looking orc, followed by two rather seedy looking trolls. Krom knew the trolls, but the orc was unfamiliar to him.

The trolls were Chi'jin, and Cho'jin, his old buddies from back in the day. Krom and they had passed many an hour smoking silverleaf out by the old ridge. Silverleaf is one hell of a drug. Krom had it out of his system now, and so had no desire to take up the habit again. The withdrawal had been pretty bad. Besides the shakes and dry mouth, he had trouble remembering his own gender, and kept thinking he was a pirate captain. Skullcrusher had not been amused when he showed her his "buried treasure." That had cost him an extra thirty cactus apples each day.

The orc saluted them both briefly.

Krom couldn't get his hand to his forehead, and it wound up around his shoulder. Malladen just lay there.

"Throm'ka, heroes. I am messenger Koral, sent from Orgnil at Razor Hill. I am here to inform you, Krom, that your transfer to Razor Hill has been made final, and that you are expected at Razor Hill by noon."

Koral glanced at his sundial wristwatch.

"That should give you about one hour to get there. Ample time if you start right away."

Ample time if he could see straight.

Krom nodded limply, trying not to shake the dwarven forge too much.

"One question though messenger, the sergeant at the Valley said I'd be able to choose what I wanted to do next."

Koral nodded, "That is usually true, however, the sergeant requested that you be sent to Razor Hill specifically, and as soon as possible. Something about expert knowledge."

Looks like Skullcrusher was still managing to influence Krom's life.

_Oh well, where else was I going to go?_

"I suppose we'd better get ready to go then Malladen."

"Actually mon, I got to be staying here for awhile."

Krom's first instinct was to stay calm; this was quickly overruled by panic.

"But, we're a team, right? WE ARE A TEAM? RIGHT?"

Malladen winced at Krom's loud voice,"Ya mon. Calm down already. We meet back up again in Orgrimmar in about, oh two days. Till then, I got some stuff to do round Sen'jin."

Deep down Krom knew that losing Malladen's help would be equivalent to losing your arms in a boxing match, but he had also convinced himself that he was a supremely skillful fighter. Not to mention Malladen's words soothed him. This would only be a temporary separation. Frankly, Krom wasn't sure how Malladen would get along without him.

"Allright. So be it. I'd best start off for Razor Hill."

Chi'jin and Cho'jin had been silent this whole time, but as Krom bid farewell to Malladen and exited the hut, the two started talking immediately.

"Eh Krom, wanna smoke some silverleaf?"

"No thanks."

"C'mon man, it be da shit."

"Is this all you guys came to see me for?"

"Well Krom ol boy, it ain't da same without you. We miss da funny hallucinations you used to have. Remember that time you thought you were a gnome and you—,"

"Shut up. Right now. We agreed to never talk about that, remember?"

"Oh yea."

"C'mon man, just take one hit."

Back in the day, Krom would have found the offer tempting, but without the haze of inhibition hanging around his head, he was thinking a lot clearer, and wasn't embarrassing himself anymore with incidents best forgotten.

"Not happening guys. Tell you what though, I'll send you guys some ghost mushrooms if you leave me alone."

That did the trick. The two wandered off, undoubtedly to smoke more silverleaf and pretend they were centaurs or something. Krom had never been gladder to be off the leaf. With his meager belongings in his pack, he meandered along the road on his way to Razor Hill.

* * *

"Brave hero! You must help me!"

Krom turned around to find a rather panicked looking orc racing towards him. The orc skidded to a halt and leaned on his knees, gasping for air.

"What do you need citizen? Krom asked.

"Brave hero! I am but a lowly peon and lack your battle prowess or rugged good looks."

Krom nodded sagely, "You are an astute observer good orc."

"Please brave hero! I need you to deliver this package of food for me. It was supposed to go to the Valley of Trials, but they don't need it, so they sent me back. But I am no warrior, and had to avoid all sorts of dangerous creatures to get there and then back to here. I was nearly killed by all those vicious scorpions, raptors, and boars!"

Krom looked down the road from where the orc had come. There wasn't a soul in sight.

"Scorpions, raptors, and boars eh? They sure look dangerous."

The orc nodded furiously, "They have a taste for orc blood that cannot be satisfied by the occasional adventurer anymore."

"All right citizen, where do you need this food delivered to?"

"Razor Hill."

"Razor. Fricken. Hill. Are you serious? It's like ten steps over there!"

Krom pointed to a clearly visible Razor Hill, about ten steps from where they were standing.

"But the boars—,"

"There are no boars around here. There is absolutely nothing that could harm you. Look!"

Krom pointed back up the road. A rabbit was nibbling some grass. But that was all.

"See?"

The orc looked around nervously, "I don't know, it looks too—."

"By Thrall's aging grandmother man! Watch!"

Krom took ten steps and was at the gate of Razor Hill.

"See? It is perfectly safe."

The orc looked emboldened. "All right." He said and took a careful step forward. When nothing happened, he smiled triumphantly and prepared to take another step.

All of a sudden, the rabbit launched itself through the air and latched onto the orc's throat. The orc screamed in agony as the rabbit started dragging him down the road. Krom prepared to rush to the orc's aid, when suddenly several raptors came out of nowhere and began viciously tearing at the orc's body. A couple of boars leapt out of nowhere as well and began mauling the orc most thoroughly. Within a matter of seconds the animals all vanished and Krom had only taken two steps. All that was left of the orc was a red stain.

Krom shrugged. "Whatever."

* * *

Razor Hill may have made the Valley of Trials look bad, but the truth was, Razor Hill wasn't much better. Several rickety buildings, each crafted with the loving care the Horde put into all of its buildings, stood clumped around a large, bare patch of dirt. Truly the height of glory when it came to Horde cities.

Krom had made it with about thirty two seconds to spare, and so decided to skip his afternoon drinking sessions and report straight to this Orgnil fellow. He wasn't hard to find. When it comes to Horde cities, just go the building that looks the least flammable, and you'll find the military officers.

The building was one of those squat little bunkers. It was completely bare on the interior. There wasn't even a welcome mat. Orgnil was standing in the bunker, looking slightly worried and wringing his hands every so often. He appeared to only have one eye.

Krom marched over to him and dropped his pack.

"Krom reporting for duty sir," he said.

Orgnil looked up from his hand-wringing, hope filling his remaining eye.

"Ah! The specialist!"

Krom didn't like the sound of that.

"Good, good, Skullcrusher said she was sending a new hero who had proved exceptional in his first test, and that he would be able to help us with our big problem."

Krom liked that even less.

Orgnil's eye darted back and forth a couple of times, then he leaned in close to Krom and whispered, "We've got Burning Blade problems soldier."

Krom liked that the least.

"Skullcrusher said she sent you on her hardest mission, and you prevailed! The last orc to overcome Skullcrusher's ultimate challenge was Kilroth."

Kilroth. Krom's blood boiled at the sound of his rivals' name. The memories of Kilroth making him eat cactus paste were exceptionally fresh right then (seeing as how the last time had been two weeks ago). Things would be different this time. Krom was stronger, faster, and possibly more intelligent (most definitely not). While Krom's blood rage was getting up, Orgnil continued to ramble.

"We need your help desperately. You'll need to infiltrate their cave base, and kill as many of them as possible, and while you're at it, make sure you get their leader."

Krom grunted in response.

"You must kill as many as you can. That is extremely important."

"Don't worry sir; I've got a good eye for details."

Orgnil stared at this comment. His empty eye socket seemed a little more prominent.

_Whoops. Bad comment. _Krom thought.

"Right…" Orgnil said, "Anyway, while you're in their cave base, you'll need to watch for traps, and ambushes. The Burning Blade fights dirty."

"Not a problem sir, I've got eyes like a fox."

Orgnil stared again.

_Crap. I should think before I speak._

"Well…in that case, should you succeed, I'd be willing to write you a letter for the Warchief, commending your efforts. In the meantime, be sure and fill out these forms here."

He handed Krom a stack of paper.

"Er, sure. What are these?"

"In case of your demise, these documents insure we will not be held responsible for sending you on a suicide mission."

"All right, that sounds good; just give me a moment, and I'll look these over, cross the t's and dot the…"

Orgnil looked at him murderously.

"…lower-case j's."

* * *

Paper work filled out and turned in; Krom emerged from the shanty old bunker into the glorious mid-afternoon sunlight. And behold! In the bare dirt batch stood none other than Kilroth.

He was tall for an orc, with one of those orc pony-tails, the manly ones. The ones that make you look tougher, instead of looking gender confused. He had biceps so impressive, that when he walked through Razor Hill, all the women swooned. He stood tall and proud, equipped with shiny armor that put Krom's rusty cuirass and old boots to shame. And his axe! You've never seen such an axe! Lovingly polished to a fine sheen, sharper than fine cheese, and with plus four strength!

Krom hated every inch of him. Hated with such a burning passion, that he was pretty sure his liver had just caught fire. Though Krom was painfully aware of Kilroth, yet Kilroth was oblivious to Krom, as he was dueling a hunter, and winning easily. There appeared to be a number of people Kilroth had beaten already lying nearby, each one in sorry shape after being defeated by him.

Kilroth defeated his opponent with sickening ease, and proceeded to victory dance. While the only word Krom could think of to describe that dance was "lame" everyone else seemed overawed. The defeated orc hunter crawled away to find a healer, leaving behind his pride and most of his blood.

Kilroth finished his dance with a quick hip thrust at the watching ladies. Half fainted dead on the spot while the others blushed.

Krom was gripping a random troll's neck so hard, his knuckles were popping, and the troll was suffocating.

"Ey…..mon….let….me…go?"

Krom obliged. And quickly started strangling a rock instead. The troll quickly put a lot of distance between the two of them.

At this moment Kilroth, distracted by the troll's hasty retreat, looked up from where he was flirting with several troll and orc women, and noticed Krom doing his best to end the rock's life.

Kilroth smirked widely, and sauntered on over to Krom, one arm over the shoulder a shapely troll priestess, and the other over an orc huntress.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Krom! Still sucking at everything I see." Kilroth mocked.

Krom was pretty sure he had enough rage right now to heroic strike his way through a wall of titansteel.

"Ah Krom, I'll never understand how you managed to actually be accepted as a hero of the Horde, you're completely inadequate in every way imaginable."

Krom felt his eye twitching rapidly, quicker than a tauren confronted with soap.

"You see Krom, where as you are terrible at everything, I am awesome. Do you recall the story of how my journey began?"

He did. It was a lot more inspiring than his. Apparently Kilroth had killed five centaurs that set upon a shaman, stopped a boulder from crushing three orphans, slain thirty boars at once, and looked good all while doing it.

Krom had had enough. He was dangerously close to entering cardiac arrest, and needed some release.

"Kilroth. You. Me. Duel. Now. TO THE FRICKEN DEATH!" and with a roar of primal rage, Krom ground the rock he was holding into dust so fine, Chi'jin and Cho'jin would have fought over who got to snort it.

All the other gathered heroes were silent as they watched to see Kilroth's reaction.

Kilroth raised an eyebrow and smirked slightly.

"Yeah right Krom. I don't duel the mentally handicapped."

With a laugh, Kilroth walked away from Krom, the women still at his side.

With Kilroth departed, Krom's dire rage cooled down. Enough that he could think coherent thoughts beyond, "KILL KILL KILL."

And what he noticed was good. Kilroth had technically fled from his challenge. That put Krom in a fairly good mood, until a troll mage told him that Kilroth always turned down opponents who weren't a challenge.

Lucky for Krom, he had convinced himself Kilroth was scared. And maybe he was.

In the end it was all inconsequential anyway, Krom reasoned, so he decided the best thing to do was finish his job here so he could meet up with Malladen in Orgrimmar before the dead line.

* * *

Being an expert trail blazer, Krom decided to forego the road in favor of a cross country trip. There was nothing quite like a hike through the wilderness after all. Seeing all the majesty of those dry red rocks, and dry red dirt, and shriveled up vegetation.

It didn't take long for Krom to realize this had been a big mistake. It was probably after the third attack by raptors.

"OH DEAR GOD! WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE RAPTORS?" The blood thirsty creatures were hot on his trail, as Krom ran at breakneck speed, leaving behind skid marks that may or may not have been the result of loosened bowels.

Just up ahead Krom could see a welcome sight, the zeppelin tower! Safety lay dead ahead. The raptors spotted it too, and were having none of that. Two raptors moved to flank Krom on either side, and were preparing to pass him so as to box him in.

"All right raptors, think you're so tough? Well, wait until those guards over there turn you into raptor-kabobs!"

Krom could see the guards now. They appeared to be playing scrabble.

"Hey! Help!" Krom yelled.

One of the guards looked up, gave a friendly wave, and went back to his game. It was too little too late. The raptors piled on top of Krom and gave him the once-over. Not only did they steal his wallet, they also made him eat dirt.

They then took off laughing and holding their prize in the air.

_Well the jokes on them!_ Krom thought. _There's only one silver four copper in that wallet anyway._

He picked himself off the ground and dusted himself off, flipped the guards the bird, and continued walking towards his destination.

At last Krom spotted the cave base of the Burning Blade. It was as unassuming as the many caves in Durotar, and like all of the caves, inhabited by things that wanted you dead. Outside the cave, two Burning Blade orcs seemed to be having an argument over something, deciding to use this as his chance to sneak by, Krom crept closer to the orcs.

"Look, all I'm saying is that the Razor Hill Raptors would have beaten the Crossroads Caribou if they hadn't let Joray Gorspine go."

"Yeah right, Gorspine is completely overrated; he's only ever scored three touchdowns in one game."

"That's damned impressive you know."

"It would be, if that weren't all he's ever scored in his career."

The two orcs were locked deep in argument, and neither one noticed Krom sneak stealthily by, holding a palm frond in front of his face.

The inside of the cave was very cave like. Unsurprisingly, this did not surprise Krom.

Seeing as how it was unlikely that the two guards at the entrance were the only guards in the cave, Krom knew he would have to rely on his incredible ninja skills to not be overwhelmed by the enemy.

First thing first. Axe? Check. Okay, good to roll.

With axe in hand, Krom crept carefully around the corner, to be greeted by a sight that truly made his heart sink. There was nothing around the corner. At all.

_Oh well. Next corner for sure._

Next corner? Nothing.

_Okay, this is kodoshit. Where the heck are all the guards eagerly awaiting to be slain by my mighty hand?_

A little extra walking later and Krom still hadn't found any guards, and was starting to get ticked off pretty badly.

Luckily the next corner revealed a guard! He appeared to be sleeping.

_Perfect! My first catch of the day!_ Krom decided it would be in order to learn fishing after this.

He approached the sleeping guard, as loudly as possible, hoping he would wake up and they would battle gloriously to the death.

The guard just grunted a little, and muttered, "Not the socks, anything but the socks…."

Krom figured the more chances he gave the guard to wake up, the better.

"Behold! I now raise my axe! Soon it will descend and kill you! I advise you take up arms now!"

Krom raised his axe and began bringing it down slowly.

The guard snored contentedly.

The axe descended.

The guard snored on.

"Ok. Screw it."

Krom took a full swing back and with a mighty swipe, dispatched the guard.

No backup rushed in to aid the guard. No alarm was raised. Nothing at all happened.

"This is pathetic. I am a hero! Where are my adversaries?"

Krom finally heard something, it sounded like someone talking. Krom crept carefully towards the voice.

There seemed to be an orc standing in the next part of the cave holding a conversation with no in particular. His eyes were unfocused, as if he was looking far away.

"Look! I don't care what you say, if we strike now, we can destroy Razor Hill easily, we have more than enough troops."

_Funny. _Krom thought. _I wouldn't call three orcs "troops."_

The orc paused and seemed to be listening to someone talk.

"Your orders make less sense than three silver and two copper."

Krom winced at the bad pun. Apparently whoever the orc had been conversing with wasn't impressed with it either, for the orc took on a shamefaced look.

"I know, I know, but I still want to earn my degree someday."

….

"Well your stupid and have a big head."

….

"I'm hanging up now."

The orc's eyes came back into focus and he blinked twice to clear them from…. who knows?

Krom figured now was as good a time as ever to deal with this orc. At least this time he might actually get a chance to fight.

Krom stepped out of the shadows, axe at the ready, and proclaimed, "Burning Blade! I, Krom, have come here to cleanse Durotar of your foul taint!"

The orc gave a cursory glance and said, "Ah, so our intruder shows himself. It's about time."

Krom blinked in confusion.

"You…knew I was here?"

"Of course! I am Gazz'un! Nothing escapes my notice! But you have been foolish to venture so far into my lair, now, your death is certain. Soldiers! Attack!"

Nothing happened.

Gazz'un looked around in confusion. A single orc warlock stepped out of the shadows.

"Um, sir? You let the men go out for a special picnic, remember?"

"Oh Sargaras damn it. I forgot about that. Uhm. Warlock! Kill the intruder!"

The orc warlock saluted and began charging up his shadowy powers. Krom, however, had had plenty of experience with shadow magic recently, and wasn't about to go through that again.

He closed the gap quickly, and struck down the warlock within a matter of seconds.

"Gazz'un! This better be…covered…by…my health insurance…."

Gazz'un was surprised by Krom's agility, but got over his shock quickly.

"So! You're no amateur. Don't think you can measure up to Gazz'un though!"

Gazz'un drew his long sword and struck at Krom's head. Krom evaded the blow and retaliated by slashing at Gazz'un's knees. Gazz'un jumped the attack and retreated a couple of steps.

"Hm. Clearly you have been trained well. But not that well! Witness the might of Gazz'un!"

Gazz'un assumed the stance Krom recognized as the charging stance. With a fierce roar, Gazz'un rushed Krom, sword raised.

Everything seemed to slow down for Krom. This was it he knew. If his warrior reflexes failed him this time, he may not come out of the encounter with a head. Gazz'un was rushing steadily nearer, closing the gap. That sword would turn Krom into twins.

_All right, nothing flashy is necessary. _Krom thought.

Krom stepped smoothly to the left, and stuck out his foot.

Gazz'un tripped heavily and went sailing through the air. He smashed into the opposite wall and slid down to the floor. He didn't get up.

Krom walked cautiously over to investigate. To his astonishment, Gazz'un appeared to be dead. It seemed a strange crystals he had on him had impaled him when he slammed into the wall. Krom pulled the crystals out with a squelching noise and examined it.

It was green crystal. It was mostly unremarkable looking, other than edges that were pretty damn sharp. Suddenly the crystal began to glow and to Krom's great surprise he could hear someone talking to him!

"Gazz'un, I'm sorry about what I said, I think you'd make a great standup comic."

Krom didn't say anything.

"Gazz'un? Are you there?"

"Gazz'un! Respond at once or I will have you boiled in lava and fed to the troggs for the amusement of the masters!"

"This insubordination will not be tolerated Gazz'un! I can get you fired! You'll lose your pension!"

"…Gazz'un? Hello? He must be in the bathroom…yes, the bathroom. I'll call later."

There was a *click* sound, and then the crystal stopped glowing.

Krom was no magical genius, but he was pretty sure this was a fairly significant find, and it would be in his best interests to hand it over to Orgnil, that or sell it on the black market, but sadly, Krom lacked underworld contacts. So he would have to settle for Orgnil. Speaking of Orgnil, Krom had hardly slain many of the Burning Blade, but, he did technically slay three fifths of all the Burning Blade he had encountered, so he figured that was a reasonable ammount to present to Orgnil.

_I really need to get some __underworld__ contacts._Krom thought.

He stuffed the crystal in his pack and began retracing his steps in an effort to get out of the cave before the others got back from their picnic and decided to turn him into a piñata.


	5. To Each His Own

A/N: So I started this back in 2010 when Cataclysm wasn't out. Yeah.

Anyway I don't plan to change it. I'm not sure how many chapters I'll get out for it now, but it everything takes place before Cataclysm.

* * *

_Things probably can't get much worse, _Krom thought to himself as countless Burning Blade swarmed all over the cave. He had been making his merry way out when the Orc cultists returned and we're soon shocked to find the slain bodies of three-fifths of all the guards they had left behind.

"There is a dangerous hero around here somewhere!" yelled an angry Burning Blade, "Spread out and find him! He must not be allowed to escape."

The Burning Blade swarmed past the crack in the wall Krom had wedged himself in. Though at least half of Krom stuck out, none of the Burning Blade seemed to have noticed, and soon Krom was actually alone. He could hear voices from deeper inside the cave, but for now, he was Goblin-free.

Feeling giddy he rushed out of the cave entrance, tripped on a rock and fell flat on his face.

"That looked painful."

Krom slowly looked up towards the source of the voice. He was surrounded by about six Burning Blade, all looking extremely pissed off. _At least I prepared my last will before this._ Krom thought.

"All right lads," said a Burning Blade with a scar over his eye "prepare the song of "Beating to Death."

_Ohhhhhhhhh…._

_Who thinks he's a hero but is really a trainee?_

_This dead moron!_

_We'll take our weapons and break his knees!_

_This dead moron!_

_If a pile of entrails be something you wish…_

_This dead moron!_

_Then get your swords we'll gut him like a fish!_

_This dead moron!_

_Ready?_

_We're gonna kill him,_

_We're gonna slay him,_

_We're gonna-_

_Beat him!_

_Hahahahahahahhohohoho-cough-cough-hahaha!_

And an Orc on the flute even played a quick eight notes.

All in all a very impressive song of beating to death, but Krom had an ace up his sleeve. Standing up and dusting himself off, Krom gave the Burning Blade the once over and pulled out his axe.

"You six may think you're tough stuff, but prepare to taste the wrath of the ultimate warrior technique; Bladestorm."

_Its time, _whispered a voice in Krom's head. _Oh yes it is,_ he whispered right back.

"BLAAAADEEEESTOOORRRMMM!" screamed Krom as he started spinning, and spinning, and spinning. And doing nothing else. The Burning Blade glanced at each other in confusion, wasn't this guy supposed to be attacking them?

Krom slowly stopped spinning, feeling extremely dizzy and having accomplished nothing. The ultimate warrior technique had failed him! He stood still, feeling very queasy and hoping he wouldn't lose his lunch.

"Enough of this farce!" roared the scar-eyed Burning Blade, "Kill him!"

The six Burning Blade grabbed their weapons and reared back for the attack. At the same time, they all slashed forward.

Krom's stomach chose this moment to rebel and he leaned over to puke all over the ground, unknowingly saving his life.

As he ducked the Burning Blade's weapons passed harmlessly over his head and into each other. When Krom finished puking, he straightened up to find six dead Burning Blade.

"Guess they killed themselves out of fear of my skills," Krom mused as he rubbed his chin. He decided he may as well loot these corpses while he was at it. Two silver and some dynamite. He didn't know why they had dynamite, but he'd always wanted to try the stuff out.

Giggling like a child (which he basically is mentally) he lit a stick of dynamite and tossed it as far away as he could, turned away from it and covered his ears. There was a loud _boomf_ and then a louder, more cave-in-like sound. Warily glancing behind him, he was stunned to discover the cave he had recently escaped from was gone, replaced by a collapsed pile of rocks.

_I wonder how this will affect my quest. _Krom thought as he opened his quest log. _Let's see, Burning Blade slain, All/10. Sounds complete to me._

Whistling merrily to himself Krom pocketed his quest log and prepared to head back to Razor Hill.

* * *

The walk back was anything but merry. "WHY ARE THERE SO MANY RAPTORS!" Krom screamed as he ran as fast as his legs would go. Not far behind him were at least four raptors, all looking exceptionally hungry for Orc-chops.

There! In the distance! Razor Hill loomed close!

_Just a little further,_ Krom thought desperately, _and I'm home free!_

The raptors realized they weren't going to catch him, and skidded to a halt. Krom rushed through the gates of Razor Hill victoriously and, looking back, gave the raptors the one-finger salute.

The lead raptor, looking furious, pointed a talon at Krom, and proceeded to draw it across his neck.

Krom gulped and quickly looked away.

* * *

Ascending the steps of the Razor Hill bunker, Krom found himself face-to-face with the Orc who had sent him on his merry quest.

"You're back!" exclaimed Orgnil in surprise. "I was certain you'd have been dead hours ago. In fact I was so certain I already sent someone else to do the same job."

"Are you kidding? No one can defeat Krom the, um, the Kromtastic!" Krom roared proudly.

"I have arms of steel! The mind of a champion, and the eyes of a-"

Orgnil's single eye seemed to be boring into Krom.

"-you know what? Never mind. Job's done and that's all that matters right?"

Orgnil looked slightly mollified, only slightly.

Reaching into his backpack, Krom pulled out the green crystal he had looted off the Burning Blade leader.

"This thing might be important. It talked to me."

Orgnil raised an eyebrow as he accepted the crystal. He looked it over briefly then held it up to his mouth.

"Dial last-called," he said.

The crystal started glowing.

"Excuse me," said Orgnil into the crystal, "we've had some problems here. Our leader is dead so we're going to need to know where the secret lair of the Burning Blade is."

"Oh that sounds plausible," intoned the crystal, "we're inside Ragefire Chasm right now. Should we send reinforcements?"

"Negative," said Orgnil, "we'll do the sending of the reinforcements."

"That doesn't even make sense." The crystal replied skeptically.

"Neither does your mother."

*click*

Orgnil "hung-up" on whoever was on the other end of the crystal.

"All right Krom, looks like you're tied up in something big now. Take this and get to Orgrimmar. Report to Thrall, and he'll have further orders for you.

"Consider it done." Krom said as he saluted.

"By the way Orgnil, you know you only have one-"

"I KNOW YOU USELESS IMBECILE! NOW GET OUT BEFORE I MURDER YOUR WORTHLESS ASS!"

Krom got his ass out.

* * *

_Meanwhile, on the echo Isles…_

_Dis be a little too easy for me. _Malladen thought as he cleaned his knives of dried troll's blood. Zalazane's hexed trolls were putting up barely any resistance for the wild-looking troll.

Sheathing his daggers, Malladen slipped back into stealth, carefully creeping through the ruins in the center of the island.

The burnt out remains of troll huts loomed above him, casting feeble shadows on the ground. A single shadow is all a good rogue needs to operate. The hexed troll standing nearby never made a sound as a dagger slit its throat.

Like an angel of death, Malladen moved through the island, and nothing could stand in his way. He would deal with Zalazane and his people would be free. Up ahead he spied the enclosure Gadrin said Zalazane was hiding out in. Sure enough Malladen saw the twisted fiend.

Zalazane stood at his skull pile cackling to himself as he poured his dark energy into the skulls.

"Mine! Dis all be mine!" He screamed insanely as he poured even more dark energy into the skulls.

_Now or never_, thought Malladen as he drew his daggers. Stealthing forward, he began to ascend the slope Zalazane stood on. Positioning himself behind Zalazane he prepared to deal the fatal blow when suddenly-

"Hello rogue."

Zalazane turned around and flicked his hand out. Malladen was blasted back and tumbled down the hill.

"Did you really tink dat I, the great Zalazane, couldn't spot an insignificant rogue like you?" Zalazane cackled again, and raised his arms.

The earth shook, and out of the dirt emerged more hexed trolls. Also they were zombies.

Zalazane shook his head sadly and grinned maniacally at Malladen.

Pointing dramatically he intoned, "Soon you too will be one of mine. Today the Echo Isles, tomorrow, the world!"

Dusting himself off casually Malladen stood up. "Dat's where you be wrong mon."

"You want to dance wit da Horde? Den let's dance madtroll."

The hexed zombie trolls rushed forward as fast as their decaying ligaments would let them (about the speed of a toddler learning to walk). Dagger flashing in the sunlight, Malladen surged forward, leaping over a zombie and rolling under another. Each zombie collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut (which it basically was).

Jumping atop the stairs of a nearby burnt out hut Malladen drew out a throwing knife which he pinned right in a zombie's eye socket. His hands flashed and another knife stuck out of a zombie's throat. Zalazane giggled like a school-boy as he watched the spectacle. He casually deflected a knife aimed at him and wagged his finger at Malladen in a disappointed way.

"Ah-ah-ah! If you want da main course, you got to be eatin your appetizer!"

The trolls surged forward at Malladen on the stairs. He lashed out with his foot, kicking the zombies backwards. They collapsed on each other and a bowling pins sound effect played.

Malladen looked incredulously at Zalazane who simply made a laugh track play in response.

"Is dis just a game to you?" Malladen demanded.

"Why yes it is. Der always be trolls being sent to kill me. If I don't keep myself entertained, who will?"

"I've had enough of dis." Malladen growled in disgust.

Leaping the fallen zombies he rushed up the hill again.

Zalazane brought up his arms to fling Malladen back, but when he cast the spell, Malladen quickly dodged to the right and sprang into the air.

For the first time, a look of panic came into Zalazane's eyes as Malladen descended like a bird of prey. But the look vanished in an instant as Zalazane simply blasted Malladen out of the air again.

"Nice try rogue, but next time think smarter."

Winded slightly from the attack, Malladen sat up gasping.

"I think..I think dis be over." He said and lifted up both hands.

Zalazane noticed he only had one dagger. His eyes slowly drifted to the skull pile. A single knife was stuck right through the top skull.

"Nooo!" Zalazane screamed. He frantically tried to pull the knife out, but it wouldn't budge.

"I noticed every time you cast a spell, you get your magic from da skulls. Without that skull, you won't be able to blast me away again."

Malladen charged again, one final time.

Zalazane fired off shadow bolts in desperation, but the crafty rogue dodged each bolt and with lightning speed ducked to the side of Zalazane, rolled behind him and pinned his arm to his chest. Unable to cast spells, Zalazane struggled to get free when he discovered a dagger to his throat.

"For Vol'jin."

The deed was done. Zalazane lay dead and peace would return to the Echo Isles now. Stepping past the corpse of Zalazane, Malladen picked up the skull with his dagger stuck through it. Giving an almighty heave, he pulled the dagger free and stuck it in his belt. He was about to toss the skull away when suddenly a voice filled his head.

_Dat was one hell'uva display mon. _

Malladen started and looked around. But he was definitely alone. Nothing but jungle and ruins around. And a single tiger, but Malladen didn't think he was that far gone.

_Right here in your hands mon._

Malladen glanced down at the skull. Its eyes were glowing faintly, and smoke curled lightly up from them. Malladen never claimed to be a mage, but he could tell magic when he saw it.

_Dat's right. You be talkin with a skull. You killed Zalazane, dat means us spirits who was trapped are free to move on to da afterlife, but I want ta help you mon. You saved me, so it's only fair I pay you back, ya? If you let me, I can live in your head mon, give advice and stuff. I used to be a great rogue when I was alive, name of Tok'jin, Tok for short._

Malladen thought it over. The spirit of a great rogue living with him could only be a good thing (though he'd never heard of a Tok'jin), and he was sure that he could learn a lot from this guy. He made his decision. "Well, more help is always good. You got a deal talking skull."

_Nice mon. Movin in. _The skull started to shake gently.

The skull stopped glowing altogether and crumbled to dust.

_All right mon. We be a team now. Wow, you have some twisted thoughts mon._

"Hey! Don't go rootin around in my head!"

_Dun worry mon, team remember?_

Malladen hoped he wouldn't come to regret this. He also wondered how Krom was doing without his help.

_Hmm, he's probably doing all right._

* * *

Turns out Krom wasn't doing so hot. His feud with the raptors had intensified, and half-way to Orgrimmar they had ambushed him, stole his wallet again, gave him a wedgie, and left a kick-me sign on his back. With bruised pride and battered rump, Krom dusted himself off and continued onwards.

Needless to say he walked bow-legged the rest of the way to Orgrimmar.

* * *

"Hey Grunk."

"Yeah Brunk?"

"Looks like one of them new heroes is coming up the road."

"Whatever Brunk."

Krom stood outside Orgrimmar for the first time in a week. Last time he had been within the gloriously Horde-like walls of Orgrimmar was a minute before his dad kicked him out. Krom took a deep breath and let it out with a contented sigh.

"Aw yeah, smell that Orgrimmar air. (smells like unwashed socks and kodo manure)."

"Hey newbie hero," sneered Brunk, "Shouldn't you be in the Valley of Trials?"

He snickered loudly; causing a passing Tauren to check to make sure his kodo wasn't leaking "transmission fluid."

"Seriously Brunk, do you have to haze every newbie who comes through?" asked Grunk tiredly.

Krom had the feeling he had seen a scene similar to this before, but he wasn't sure where…

"Of course I do Grunk; they will never have the glorious honor of guarding the gates of Orgrimmar!"

"Uh-huh. I remember when you failed your hero exam you sobbed brokenly in your bed for two whole nights."

"My allergies were acting up! And I would have passed if it weren't for question 42-C."

"Wasn't that question to name the capital city of the Tauren?"

"Exactly! No one knows what that is! Not to mention-"

Krom had had enough of these two clowns. Walking past them and through the entrance tunnel, he emerged into the Valley of Strength.

Orgrimmar was the peak of Horde ingenuity; huts built in close proximity of each other. To this day no more impressive city existed, and Krom doubted one ever would. The tower cliffs surrounding Orgrimmar loomed high, cooling the typically hot air to a breathable 104 degrees Orcenheit. Numerous heroes swarmed the nearby Auction House and bank, and the noise level could be overwhelming. In addition to the mighty heroes, there were also the mighty failures. Shady looking characters who promised to shine your boots for a copper, or those individuals who begged for a gold or twenty. Not to mention those bizarre cultists who would kill themselves and arrange their bodies to spell out words. Yeah Orgrimmar was a mixing pot that was for sure.

Today though, Krom had one destination in mind. His home. He was going to stick it in his dad's face! He was the hero now, while his dad was just a tired, broken old veteran. Entering the dark confines of the Drag, Krom passed by several Orcs dressed in the way that gave the Drag its name. After a short walk he stood outside his home, in all its hut-like glory. This was it; he was going to give his old man a piece of his mind. Walking into the hut (it has no door after all) he announced to the room at large, "I'm back."

His dad was reading the paper (The Daily Tradechat) at the table and looked up when he walked in. A grin broke out on his face.

"Well well, looks like our boy is back." He stood up. Krom gulped, he'd forgotten his dad was about a foot taller than him, with biceps that looked like they'd be more at home on a gronn than an orc.

"Look at you boy, you've really shaped up!" His dad walked over to him and examined him with a critical eye.

"Erm, yeah, uh D-dad, look h-here, I-I'm not g-going to p-put up…" Words failed Krom under the eye of his father.

"Ah my boy, you don't need to worry, you've done your old man proud for the first time in your life. I got a letter from my old army buddy Skullcrusher, she told me all about your escapades, and it sounds like maybe someday you'll do the family name proud."

Krom's jaw dropped, the last thing he had ever expected was his father to express any sort of pride in him. Tears welled up in his eyes and immediately evaporated in the scorching hot air.

"Now my boy, here." Krom's father handed him his blunt mace. "You can take a shot at me for once."

Krom gripped the blunt mace. After such a touching moment he really knew he shouldn't, but sudden memories of many a blunt mace to the face resurfaced, and Krom knew it was time for some payback.

He lashed out wildly, but his dad caught the mace mid-air. There was a dangerous light in his eyes.

"I don't believe it, you were actually going to hit me."

Uh-oh.

"Oh boy you're in for it now."

* * *

An hour and one beating later Krom was leaving home again. Even though he looked like he'd been run over by a kodo-train, he still had that warm afterglow from his dad's compliment. He MIGHT not be a failure! High praise from his father.

With a skip in his step he continued down the Drag, ignoring the cat-calls from the dubious looking "women" in the shadows.

He was nearly out of the drag when he heard a voice.

"Oh no, I-look out! ATCHOO!"

Krom stopped dead. Bad idea it turns out as a bear crashed down on top of him.

Buried underneath several hundred pounds of bear and fur, Krom was sure this was how his life would end.

_The Tale of Krom the Kromtastic~_

_A promising young hero who hath slain many foes, yet struck down by a bear most foul._

_The end._

Not exactly the story he had hoped for. Suddenly the bear was gone, and instead he was buried underneath a cow-woman.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she wailed as she got off him. "I hope you're not hurt! Let me help!"

Her hands started glowing green and next thing Krom knew he was being healed like there was no tomorrow.

"Whoa now slow down lady, it takes more than a falling bear to even dent Krom the – _on second thought, no Kromtastic_ –me." He finished lamely.

"Are you sure?" she asked skeptically and pointed to Krom's feet. Krom looked down.

"Weird, where did this puddle of blood come from?"

_Wait a sec Krom thought. _"Oh. OH. Ohhhh…."

"Well I guess I'd thank you miss, but considering you caused the damage, we'll just say it's breakeven."

The tauren nodded soberly. "I'm very sorry again. I've got a problem you see; whenever I sneeze I change shapes."

Change shapes? Krom racked his memory. Something about classes. Something about a druid.

"_Not important Krom_," said his brain.

"You're the boss brain_," _said Krom.

"What?" asked the Tauren girl.

"Nothing. Look here though. I noticed you're a healer, and I have to say I think a healer would extremely valuable to have. For what I'm about to do. How about you help me out to make up for almost killing me?"

The tauren nodded her head quickly and spoke in a rush, "Okay, yes, all right, thank you, I'll make this up to you. My name is Flowers."

She held out her hand. Krom shook it. It was bigger than his hand he noticed.

"So what do you need help with?" Flowers asked.

"Well I'm going to see Thrall right now, and after that I'm going to visit my dad again. I need your help to defeat him."

Flowers raised an eyebrow.

"That sounds…petty."

"It may be petty but a man has the right to dream damnit!"

Flowers didn't bother saying anymore. She figured she'd just get this over with.

"Come Powers!" Krom said grandly, "We are off to see Thrall!"

"It's Flowers."

* * *

Thrall, Warchief of the Horde, hero of legendary stature, and reduced to doing boring paperwork all day. Thrall hated his job with a passion, but it was his obligation. Someday he dreamed of going off and becoming a great shaman, maybe stopping the world from falling apart by standing at the maelstrom, kill Deathwing with the dragon soul. But in his head he knew that was all just plain retarded. This was his life and he'd have to deal with it.

Then he saw the orc and tauren step through the door.

_Great now what?_

* * *

Krom couldn't believe he was really meeting Thrall, the number one celebrity in Orgrimmar (the number two being Justin Bieb-elf, though rumor had it he was dead). He hoped Thrall would sign his brawlers harness.

"Welcome to Orgrimmar, have you come to serve the Horde?" asked Thrall in a long-suffering voice.

"Mighty Warchief! We bring dire news!" cried Krom dramatically, throwing his arms wide and getting down on one knee. Flowers covered her face lest she be seen in the same company as Krom.

"The Burning Blade is right beneath our very city! In Ragefire Chasm!"

Thrall looked mildly interested.

"Well this is something new at least. I suppose I'd better assemble a crack team and get down there and take out the trash."

Krom nodded sagely, "That would be most wise great warchief. Can you sign my-"

"No."

Thrall pointed at Krom, "The two of you get down to the Cleft of Shadows, and your team will be waiting."

"Me?" cried Krom.

"Us?" cried Flowers.

Thrall rolled his eyes.

"Yes. You two. This kind of thing is why we have heroes like you, so I don't have to dirty my hands doing it."

Thrall waved his hand at them dismissively, "Now get out."

* * *

Krom and Flowers stood side-by-side outside Thrall's fortress. They glanced at each other briefly and looked away.

"Well I guess…" started Flowers.

"…we're off to Ragefire Chasm." Finished Krom.


End file.
